


Knick-Knacks

by lingering_nomad



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lingering_nomad/pseuds/lingering_nomad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stolen encounters, late night conversation and other bits of story set in my version of the Dragon Age universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Indulgence (Karl Thekla/Anders)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders awakens after his Harrowing. He is not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the '[Send me a number and a pairing, and I’ll do a short (100-300 words max) description](http://lingering-nomad.tumblr.com/post/113597412066/anders-hawke-and-either-11-or-16)' meme on tumblr. Prompt received from [mallydraws](http://mellydraws.tumblr.com/): 11. 'I almost lost you' kiss, or 16. French kiss for Anders.

Light.

Flickering.

Shadow.

Those were the first things to penetrate the murky soup that’d switched places with his brain. The second was that there was a dead rodent, complete with fur, lying where his tongue used to be. He blinked again, more slowly this time, waiting for the shifting contours to solidify into something he recognised.

“Anders?”

The use of the nickname identified the face hovering over him even before his sight could adjust.

“Karl?” he croaked, voice hoarse. “Is it…is it over?”

The cot dipped as Karl sat – _collapsed_ – beside him. “Yes,” he confirmed, nodding. A gentle hand brushed a curl from his brow and he blinked again, taking in the deep shadows under his friend’s eyes, the lines of tension bracketing his mouth.

“You did it, Anders. You _passed_.”

The hand swept down to his cheek, rough with stubble – how long had he slept? – and then Karl’s lips were on his. Warm and chapped and desperate. He opened to him, inviting him inside. His hands rose to map Karl’s flanks, to soothe as much as seek comfort, and he felt the other mage shudder at the touch.

_I was afraid._

_I was helpless._

_I’m so glad you’re alright._

The words went unspoken, but the sentiments were clear. Andraste knew, he recalled them well enough from his own vigil. Months prior, in the apprentice dormitories. Uncertain, unknowing if he would ever see this man again. The bitterness of infirmity lingered in the kiss, but it did not matter. Not to him and not to Karl. The temptation of _this_ was one of so few they did not need to resist, and he would indulge to the full.


	2. Better Half (Male Hawke/Fenris)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet of conversation between Hawke and Cassandra. Topic of discussion: Fenris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this](http://lingering-nomad.tumblr.com/post/113275284531/the-da-i-cc-appears-to-be-operational-again-so) screenshot.

  


“Anders...was my friend,” the Champion clarified. He heaved a sigh and Cassandra watched his posture sag as though a slab of stone had settled upon his back. A frown deepened the lines that creased his brow and he did not meet her eyes as he confessed, “Had it not been for Fenris, he might well have been more.”

“Your elven lover?” the Seeker verified.

Hawke’s glance was sharp. “You know of him?”

Cassandra nodded. “Varric spoke of him.”

Hawke held her gaze for a moment, then mimicked the nod. “Fenris is an elf, yes, and he is my lover. But those are not the traits that define him. He is a skilled warrior; a man of valour and honour. He is courageous and wise and refined.”

Cassandra watched the Champion askance. In his dealings with the Inquisitor he was blunt and to the point, antagonistic even, but in  _this -_  in speaking of the one he loved - his demeanour was almost… _boyish_. Years shed from his visage as he spoke of the elf, animated in his fervour. “And he is a fool too," Hawke said, a fond smile tugging at his lips, "for why else might a man such as he see fit to cast his lot in with an apostate.”

He grew silent for a moment, grin turning wistful. “The Prince of Starkhaven offered him a position as head of his royal guard. Did Varric speak of that?”

Cassandra shook her head.

“Fenris turned him down," the mage went on. "When I asked why, he said—” Hawke broke off to clear his throat, chuckling. He glanced down and Cassandra sensed, more than saw the rouge rising in his cheeks. “He said simply, ‘I enjoy following you.’” Hawke laughed again, and Cassandra couldn’t help but offer a small smile in return.

"Why is he not with you?" she ventured, genuinely curious. 

Hawke sobered at that.

“Fenris is…sensitive to magic," he offered, his reticence returning. "Even with the Breach closed, the Veil remains thin in this place. He is a warrior. He is strong in body and spirit alike, but—” He shook his head, peering into the fire. Finally, he offered a sigh. “It was my duty to keep him - all of Kirkwall -  _safe._ ” Broad shoulders rose and fell.

“Mages make poor rulers, Seeker Pentaghast. This ‘Inquisitor’ you follow…Mark my words. It will not end well.”


	3. Distraction (Male Hawke/Fenris)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Hawke and Fenris accompanied the Inquisition to the Winter Palace in Halamshiral...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this](http://lingering-nomad.tumblr.com/post/113606509471/elmroko-because-lingering-nomad-mentioned-once) gorgeous fanart drawn by [umocanavarum](http://umocanavarum.tumblr.com/).

"Here you are," Hawke said, coming up behind him. Fenris shot the mage a look from the corner of his eye. No need to confirm what was already apparent.

"Any specific reason you’re out here by yourself?" Hawke rephrased, forearm settling on the banister beside his.

“Barring the myriad of obvious ones, I assume?” Fenris sneered, glowering at his lover from the corner of his eye. It was strange to see the man without armour after all this time. And the crimson suited him too.

Fenris sighed.

Nearly four years since Kirkwall— _four years_ since their carefully constructed cocoon of safety and solace had evaporated in a blast of magic and a plume of smoke.

It was selfish to allow his resentment to intrude on this night, and yet, “I cannot do this, Wreath. I can’t watch these people simper and titter behind their masks, knowing what they think of my kind. I cannot watch that _magister_ trail after the Inquisitor like a loyal pet, I’m sorry, I simply—”

A gloved hand cupped his face, silencing the apology with a kiss. Hawke’s expression was pained as he met his eyes, filled with the same impotent anger that made the lyrium itch inside the elf’s skin.

"I know what you need, Wolf," Hawke murmured as he dipped into a bow, hand extended in invitation. "What you need, is a distraction…"


	4. Kindred (Vivienne/Male Trevelyan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke Bastien de Gislain lies dead and Inquisitor Trevelyan has a friend to console.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this](http://lingering-nomad.tumblr.com/post/112506053061/so-im-playing-a-hardcore-pro-circle-knight) screenshot from Vivienne's personal quest.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/130075334@N04/16640338969)

Lysander watched as she strode from the Duke’s bedside. Regal as ever. It was only because he knew her that he spotted the signs of her distress: fingers curled inward to hide their trembling, her features a little too still.

Her talent for concealing all that pained her was a trait he admired, but in that moment it made something inside him ache. “I—” the Herald began as she reached his side, but the words lodged in his throat. He’d spent a lifetime learning to curb his passions, from exuberance to grief and now, in this moment, the vocabulary to offer condolences to one of the precious few to scale his walls eluded him.

Vivienne regarded him stonily. Her eyes were dry, yet the bob of her throat betrayed her struggle. “He was a blessed man to have earned your regard, Vivienne,” Lysander heard himself say, voice atypically gruff. “As am I.”

Vivienne swallowed again. The corner of her mouth tilted upward, lips trembling only slightly. She did not speak, but an elegant hand alighted on his face. The touch was feather light, sacred in its brevity. With a tilt of the chin she acknowledged his words.

Lysander expected her to withdraw, and indeed, there was a moment when it seemed that she would. Instead, almost tentatively, her hand settled on his on his arm. Stifling his surprise, the Herald took his cue and escorted his friend from the room.


	5. Disdain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor has his eye on a certain silver-haired elf. Hawke is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wreath and Lysander don’t get on. This is what I see when I look at this:

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/130075334@N04/16734221364)

 

“From what I gather, those reliant on you for their protection have not fared terribly well, _Champion_ ,” Lysander dared.

Hawke turned and advanced on him.

“Hawke wait! You can’t—” the dwarf tried to intervene, but the apostate spoke over him.

“I slew the templars who murdered my father, felled the ogre who killed my sister and dispatched the madman who defiled my mother! The skull of the heathen who ransacked my city is affixed above my hearth and from its horn, hangs the seal of the last bastard who sought to impose his ' _affections'_ on my lover!”

Hawke’s eyes blazed and Lysander felt a ripple in the Veil, as though the very Fade had pledged allegiance to this man.

“Cross me if you will, _Inquisitor_ ,” Hawke seethed, “but settle any business you wish to conclude. For it will be your _last_ mistake!”


	6. Best Kept Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke has a revelation.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/130075334@N04/21652013513/in/dateposted-public/)

Hawke is well accustomed to being feared and judged for his magic. For twenty years, keeping that secret has been the driving force of his life.

Then the Arishok lies defeated before him and suddenly, the secret it out.

He’s thanked and congratulated in Hightown, but as soon as his back turns the whispers begin. Every scar is under suspicion; every nuance of emotion is picked apart for hints of demonic control. There are rumours about Leandra and whether he knew her killer. People who’d never met Carver are suddenly very concerned with his fate:

“ _…heard they set out to the Deep Roads together. What with all that treasure they found, isn’t it odd that only the elder returned?_ ”

When ‘ _the Champion’_ finally has an evening free, he ends up in front the Hanged Man’s doors and for the first time since arriving in Kirkwall, he hesitates to go in. The people who congregate there know him, but only the parts he wanted Thedas to see.

There are a few notable exceptions, of course. But what of the rest?

Would Corff be willing to serve him? Would Nora? Would conversation die as he entered, jokes and joshing replaced with strained smiles and wary stares?

Sheer tenacity drives him on. Hawke screws up his courage and steps inside.

…and instantly regrets the decision as whispers of “Hawke! It’s Hawke!” rush through the room. All eyes are on him and he doesn’t recall why surviving the duel had ever seemed like a good thing.

Hawke can’t help the flinch as all those gathered rise as one.

And then the cheering erupts.


End file.
